Page 92 of Then Came You

I must have misheard her.

“Wh…at? Did…you just say?” No.

“Tori is dead. Row’s at my place.”

All I can think about is where is Row and why didn’t she tell me?

She must be destroyed. She must be inconsolable.

I need to get to her. I charge to the car but can’t see straight. Everything is wet like I need windscreen wipers to see clearly. I’m crying, choking, and struggling to breathe.

A set of strong hands wrap around my waist from behind, holding me up. My legs are lifeless as my body slumps over, but still, Alex doesn’t let me fall. I feel caged in and elbow him to let me go. I fight him with all my might. I try to worm out of his tight hold, but it’s no use. My body is lead with grief and confusion.

“Blade. Brother. Stop. It’s going to be okay.” Alex soothes.

The anguish is too much. I’m spiralling over my uselessness. I should have been there. Where the fuck was I? Thoughts compound and suffocate me.

“How could she die?” I give up fighting, letting him console me. He embraces me tighter.

“I don’t know, bro. Let’s go to her.”

“She’s going to be buried in grief. She was all she had left. All her family is gone. She’s not going to survive this on her own. She’s all by herself.”

“I know, bro. Let’s get some answers, yeah?” I feel guilty and grateful that I have Alex. My brother and my best friend - something Row will never have again.

When my jittery nerves calm somewhat, Alex feels it too and pats me on the back. Together, we turn back to the door that delivered the wretched news. “Can I see her? Can I have your address, please?” I choke through the sting in my throat.

“I’m just locking up. Follow me.” Her tone is downcast and hopeless.

As we travel the winding roads of the Inner West, I’m reminded why I’d rather live in a gutter. There is nothing remotely appealing about the road we’re squeezing through right now to probably get to Trish’s mould-infested tiny terrace that she probably paid through the roof for.

If it’s possible, the street is getting narrower the farther we drive down, with stationary cars flanking us on each side, threatening to scratch our panelling. Noise from the outside permeates through our windows, agitating me further because the lively sounds remind me of the solemnness to come.

I’m further on edge given the number of cars mounted on the sidewalk, which indicates where in for a fuck around when trying to find a park up ahead.

I bounce my leg nervously in anticipation of our arrival. “I don’t know how to handle this,” I admit, blowing out a puff of air.

Patting me on the thigh, Alex nods in solidarity.

The only other time I’ve ever lost someone this significant was when Mum died but at least Dad, Alex, and I had each other. It’s just another stark reminder of how fortunate I’ve been in life, even in times of despair.

“Just be there for her, mate, in whatever context she needs.” It’s not sage advice, but I’ll take it because I have nothing better to offer.

“You’ll try to talk to Zee? If he misses out on being here for Row, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life and irrevocably ruin their friendship.” I squint to see the tiny numbers on the letterboxes that are poorly illuminated by the shitty street lights. We lost Trish a few minutes ago, but luckily she gave us her address. “Slow down.” I press the button to lower the window so I can see clearly, but even then I’m afraid I’ll have to jump out to actually see which house is Trish’s.

Finally, the 121 comes into view, but if I blinked I could have easily missed it because it’s a dilapidated cottage that is so snug in between the same looking houses that I’m certain even the postman gets confused when he drops off mail.

“Want me to come in with you or wait outside?” He puts the hazard lights on because sure enough there’s no parking available. A car behind honks, urging us to get moving, Fucktard.

“Just go. I’ll find my way home.” I unbuckle the seat belt, lean in for a quick hug, and open the door.

“Call me if you need me, and keep me posted on how Row is, and the funeral, yeah?” I nod, mustering up a half smile. I couldn’t fathom Alex dying. I don’t even want to entertain the thoughts of him not being here one day, which is how I know Row is probably in gut-wrenching despair right about now.

Trudging up the concrete footpath and a few steps to the front door, I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. What do you say to someone who has just lost the only person who matters to them in this world?

Not surprisingly, Trish doesn’t have a doorbell, she has a quaint sign that says ‘Do not knock’ and an old-school door knocker that you tap on the frame and can barely be heard. I have no time for this shit, so I pound the door with my fist. I probably sound deranged to anyone who can hear me, but my sole focus is to lay my gaze on Row.

A heart-pounding minute later, the door opens. “Through there in the living room,” Trish says, tipping her head to the left. Wiping my shoes on the cutesy doormat, I worm my way in the too-small door frame and walk in the direction I’m shown.

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